Revenge for the Nerd
by moondragon23
Summary: It's not easy being a father. Especially if you're keeping it a secret from your friends and family. While Shawn is adjusting to the reality of suddenly having a 15 year old daughter, a new killer strikes in Santa Barbara. A killer who will do anything to get the psychic to track him down, including going after those Shawn cares about the most.
1. Flashback

**This is a story I started months ago and never got around to continuing. I'm posting it now to see if anyone is still interested in seeing it. It is a sequel to my earlier story ****_Two Dead Guys and a Girl._****I highly recommend you read that one first, as I will be making numerous references to people and events from it.**

**I only posted the flashback for now. Chapter 1 will be up next week. I hope you like** it.

* * *

_Santa Barbara, 1992_

"How many hats?"

Fifteen year old Shawn Spencer rolled his eyes. "Dad, I told you, I'm not playing that game anymore." He slouched in his chair, arms crossed over his t-shirt/flannel combo. Hazel eyes looked bitterly at his father from under a bed of unruly brown hair.

"You need to keep honing your skills if you hope of becoming a detective someday," Henry Spencer replied. In contrast to his son's attire, the elder Spencer was wearing a suit and tie. His appearance reminded one more of a smartly dressed fisherman than a police detective.

"I don't see what's so great about being a detective," Shawn muttered sullenly.

"Shawn," Henry said sternly. "Close your eyes."

Shawn sighed, hating that he had to play this stupid game again, though he really should have seen this father had seated them so Shawn's back was to the room, like he usually did when he planned one of these exercises. He thought about refusing to cooperate, but knew his father wouldn't leave him alone until he passed his test.

Shawn sat up and closed his eyes, putting his hand to his temple in concentration. He thought back to what he had seen as he walked to the table. "Guy in the corner eating a ham sandwich wearing a Seagulls cap," he said, pointing behind him. He moved his arm to point towards the counter. "Two girls wearing matching white tennis outfits, complete with white caps." He paused, listening to the people walking around the diner. "Waitress two tables over wearing one of those flimsy paper hats like they did in the 50s," he said, identifying her by her quick, heavy tread. He pointed towards the front of the diner. "Kid at a table by the window wearing a beret and reading a book of poetry. Pretentious snob," he snorted, momentarily distracted. "Thinks he's better than everyone."

"Focus, Shawn," Henry reminded him.

Shawn snagged a French fry off his plate, munching on it as he continued. "Girl by another window a couple tables down from 'beret boy,'" he said, pointing with the half eaten fry. He popped the rest into his mouth and opened his eyes."There, six hats." He snagged another fry as he waited for his father's response.

Henry crossed his arms. "Is that it?" he asked pointedly.

"What do you mean, is that it?" Shawn asked irritably. "You asked how many hats. I told you. Game over." He reached for his burger, but Henry quickly slid the plate away from him. "Hey!"

"The game is about more than hats," Henry said reprovingly. "I taught you to observe _people_." He slid the plate further away as Shawn made a lunge for it. "Now close your eyes and start from the top."

With his burger being held hostage, Shawn had no choice but to give in to his father's demands. He glowered at him before closing his eyes again. "Seagull guy is wearing work boots, jeans, and a t-shirt. The boots and jeans have a coating of dust on them. He's sweaty, even though it's cool in here. I'm guessing road crew. His t-shirt was covered by the reflective vest they wear, that's why it's not dirty." He switched focus to the girls at the counter. "Judging by their looks I'd guess the two girls are sisters. They are dressed for tennis, though I don't think they plan on playing. Neither has any tennis equipment, though I do see a blue drawstring bag between them. A bit of red cloth is sticking out of the top. The bag probably has a change of clothes for both of them. Their jewelry looks more expensive than you normally see around here. They glance at the door every time it opens." He paused, taking a minute to put all the pieces together. "They're waiting for someone," he said slowly, as the last piece snapped into place. "I'm guessing they're using tennis lessons as an excuse to meet with a couple of guys their father doesn't approve I'm not the only one with daddy issues," he goaded.

"_Shawn_," Henry said warningly.

Shawn took a sip of his drink to hide his grin. His dad was almost too easy to mess with. "The waitress has been moving non-stop since we got here," he said, moving on. "She forgot the guy in the corner booth's refill twice already. She also keeps glancing at the door. I bet she's covering extra tables for someone who didn't show up today."

At that moment, the doors burst open. He turned around as a girl in a waitress uniform came hurrying in. "Sorry, I'm late," she said. The other waitress gave her a dirty look as she ran into the back. She emerged moments later, sans purse. "Where do you want me?"

Shawn turned back to his father as the new arrival got to work. "Well, what do you know?" he said with a smirk. "Looks like I was right."

"You're not done yet," Henry reminded him. "Keep going."

Shawn sighed, wishing, just once, his dad would acknowledge when he did something right. Even something as simple as saying 'good job.' But no matter what it never seemed to be enough. He pushed that thought away for now and closed his eyes. "The boy by the window seems distracted. He keeps changing positions at the table, then glancing up from his book to see if anyone is almost looks like he's posing for someone, or putting on a show. He does the same thing in my English class, so I know he's a pretentious snob." He heard Henry sigh, but his father didn't say anything. "The girl is in my English class too. She always has her head in a book. I'm surprised she even noticed when the waitress brought her food." He paused, feeling that he was missing something. He quickly went over everything he had observed about the girl and her surroundings. She was sitting at a table to the left of the door, facing towards the wall. She appeared to be completely absorbed in her book. In fact, the only time she had looked up from it was when her food arrived. At that moment, someone else had looked up too.

Shawn opened his eyes and turned around. The boy was still sitting there awkwardly, pretending to read the book. Shawn saw him shift position again, eyes looking up briefly from his book. This time, though, Shawn noticed who the boy was looking at.

"He has a crush on her," Shawn said, turning back to his father. "That's why he's sitting there pretending to read poetry. I've seen her read that exact same book in class. He's trying to impress her." The boy's attitude in English class made more sense now. He shook his head. "Too bad he doesn't stand a chance with her."

"Still think he's such a snob?" Henry asked. The look he gave Shawn was full of disappointment. "You need to stop making assumptions about people. It's a good way to get someone killed."

"Dad, I'm in high school," Shawn said, rolling his eyes. "Aren't you being a little overdramatic?"

"You need to break these habitats now if you're going to make it as a cop," Henry said.

"Yeah, well, what if I would rather be a daredevil?" Shawn asked stubbornly. "Or run a candy store? Or travel across the country in a van solving mysteries?"

"Unless you have a Great Dane named Scooby, you'll need a real job when you grow up," Henry said dryly. "What do you think all this training has been for?"

"To make high school even more awful?" Shawn muttered.

"What was that?" Henry asked suspiciously.

Shawn sighed. "Nothing."

"Good," Henry said. He slid Shawn's plate towards him. "Now eat your food."

The rest of the meal passed in silence. Shawn thought about what his father had said as he ate his burger. He didn't care what his father wanted him to be. He was going to make his own choices.

And it definitely would not involve becoming a cop.

* * *

**Interested? Let me know.**


	2. Psychic Detective and Father?

**I'm happy that you guys want me to continue. I had always planned for ****_Two Dead Guys _****to have a sequel but kept getting distracted by other projects. I'm glad to finally be writing it.**

**This picks up a week after the previous story ends. Once again, I highly recommend you read ****_Two Dead Guys _****first, otherwise you may be a little lost.**

**Enjoy.**

* * *

_Santa Barbara, 2013_

"What do you see?"

She looked down at the body, frowning in concentration. "There's a man lying on the ground, face down. He's dark-skinned and appears to be in his mid-thirties. His face is turned to the side, arms splayed out next to his head." She crouched down near one of his hands. "It looks like there is a piece of paper in his right hand."

"That's his left hand," the man standing next to her corrected.

She nodded. "Right."

"No, left," he insisted.

She rolled her eyes. "I meant right, it's the left hand." She stood up and circled the body. "The clothing looks well made. He's wearing a suit. No tie. Probably has a decent paying job." She stopped at the feet and tilted her head. "He's wearing sandals," she said slowly. "Which seems strange since he's wearing a suit."

"Cause of death?"

She circled back up to the top of the body. "Looks like a blow to the back of the head." She looked around the room. "I don't see any obvious murder weapon."

"What about the position of the body?" he prompted. "What does it tell us?"

"Well, his arms being up like that probably means he tried to break his fall." She glanced at him for confirmation. At his nod she continued. "So he wasn't knocked out instantly." She looked over the body again carefully. "I don't see any other obvious injuries."

"Let's go back to the murder weapon," he said. "Take another look around."

Starting from the body, she did a slow spiral around the room, looking under and over everything. She finally spotted the murder weapon behind one of the desks. "Found it," she said. She crouched down to get a closer look. "Seriously? _That's_ the murder weapon?" she asked incredulously.

"No reason why it couldn't be," he said defensively.

"But a lawn gnome? In an office?" she argued. "Isn't that a little strange?"

"Just go with it," he said with exasperation.

"Okay," she said reluctantly. "There's dirt on the base of the gnome, so the killer must have brought it with them." She stood thinking for a moment. "I doubt the killer brought the gnome specifically to kill someone with," she mused. "There are tons of easier things to use. The gnome must be important."

"Very good," he said proudly. "Any theories?"

"Maybe an argument with one of the neighboring businesses about having the gnome on the boardwalk," she suggested. "It's hard to really tell without knowing more about the victim."

"Don't forget to think outside the box," he said. "Maybe the guy got into a disagreement with the mascot of a certain travel company. Things got violent; one of them ended up dead."

"Really, Shawn?" said the dead body. "That's who you're saying the killer is? The Travelocity gnome?"

"Gus, dead bodies don't talk," Shawn Spencer admonished. He still dressed the same as he did in high school, though his hair was much more fabulous. He looked down at his best friend and business partner. "You're ruining the illusion," he whined.

"What I'm doing is wasting my time lying on the floor," Burton 'Gus' Guster said. He got up, effectively ending the exercise. He went to the sink to wash the ketchup, which they had used as a substitute for blood, from the back of his head.

"Are we done? Cus I'm getting hungry," Nikki Peterson asked. She was a bright, bubbly fifteen year old with long brown hair and hazel eyes. She was wearing ripped jeans and a faded green t-shirt. The edge of a bandage was just visible on her left upper arm. She turned to Shawn. "Can I have some money to get something on the boardwalk?"

Shawn could feel his own stomach starting to grumble. "Good idea," he said, pulling out his wallet. "Get something for me and Gus too."

"Sure thing, dad," she said, grabbing the money and running out the door.

Shawn watched her leave, a smile on his face. He was still getting used to being called "dad," especially by someone he had just met. It had only been a week since he found out the girl he was helping find her father was really his own daughter. It had been as much of a shock for him as it was for her.

He had met her mother, Sarah Peterson, when she was working as a waitress at a diner in North Carolina. Unable to ride his motorcycle through the pouring rain, he had been stranded in town for the night. Sarah was kind enough to let him crash at her place. He had left the next morning when the rain cleared up, continuing his trip down the coast. He had barely thought of her, or that night, in the intervening years.

That was until two weeks ago, when the consequences of that night finally caught up with him in the form of a fifteen year old girl.

Nikki had shown up at the Psych office, mother recently deceased and looking for her birth father. After a harrowing week, which included Nikki getting shot and Shawn nearly dying at the hands of a mad scientist, they had found out the truth. Not sure how to break the news to his friends and family, he had gone with Nikki's suggestion to keep everything a secret for now. He still wasn't sure if it was the right decision, but it did give him time to figure things out without everyone adding their two cents in. (_And why only two cents?_ he wondered idly. _One would think with inflation the price would have gone up by now_.) As a result, only he, Gus, and Nikki knew the truth. Everyone else thought he was still looking for her father.

Shaking his head, Shawn brought his thoughts back to the morning's exercise. Nikki had been begging him for the past week to teach her how to be a detective. She was smart, observant, and fairly good at reading people; all skills that would make her a great detective with some training. He supposed his own father had thought the same thing about him as a kid. Determined not to make the same mistakes Henry had, he tried to make it fun.

This morning he had started with how to read a crime hadn't gone too bad for a first attempt. Nikki had noticed most of the clues right away, which wasn't all that surprising. With her photographic memory, she had a leg up in the observation department. It was knowing what those clues meant that Shawn was focusing on. That, and getting her to keep an open mind. Thinking outside the box (or ignoring even the fact that the box existed) was how he was able to solve crimes that stumped the police.

Shawn grinned as heard Gus muttering as he tried to clean ketchup off the back of his head. He had managed to convince his friend of the necessity of making a realistic crime scene for Nikki to practice on, which naturally included realistic looking injuries. Ketchup had been the easiest thing to get a hold of to simulate fake blood and a lot less messy to clean up than more realistic alternatives. The fact that the usually immaculate Gus had to smear it on his head was just a bonus.

Looking around the Psych office, the usual combination of neatness and messiness met his eye. The two main desks had been pushed back to the edges of the room, to leave more space for Gus to lie on the floor. Gus's desk was neat and organized, while Shawn's was covered in notes, food wrappers, and assorted junk. His sweater was draped over the couch sitting under the front window. The small kitchen area was cluttered with dirty dishes, which Shawn was sure Gus would yell at him for as soon as he finished cleaning off his head. The back of the office had the usual miscellaneous piles of unmarked boxes and unidentifiable items along with a set of lockers.

Shawn went to move the desks back to their original positions. He started with his own, panting as he pushed it across the didn't remember it being this hard to move an hour ago. Getting it back into place, he moved on to Gus's wasn't paying attention to where he was walking and tripped on the lawn gnome still sitting behind it, bashing his knee hard into the edge of the desk. He cursed as he grabbed his knee, shooting a murderous look at the happy garden dweller.

"Be careful, Shawn," Gus said, walking over while patting his head dry with a dish towel. "Wouldn't want to make that a real murder weapon."

Shawn turned his glare on Gus, who just rolled his eyes. His friend came next to him and together they pushed the desk back into place. Shawn continued to lean against it when they were done, wincing as he flexed his leg. He was going to have to come up with a story to explain the massive bruise he was sure to have later.

He looked over at the gnome. It smiled innocently back at him. "Remind me to bring the gnome to my dad's when we drop Nikki off later." He grinned at Gus. "I know the perfect place to put it." His dad hated any lawn ornamentation, a fact Shawn was planning to take full advantage of. He scooped the gnome off the floor and limped over to the couch.

"Speaking of your dad," Gus said carefully. "Have you talked to him yet?"

"I talk to him all the time," Shawn said evasively. He put the gnome down, propping it up with his sweater so it remained standing. "In fact, I talked to him just this morning." He stepped back to admire his handiwork.

"You know what I mean," Gus said. "Does he know about Nikki?"

"I hope so," Shawn said. He avoided looking at Gus as he went over to his desk. "She is living there." Before he had found out Nikki was his daughter, he had stashed her at his dad's house when she needed a place to stay. Since the arrangement seemed to be working, he had decided to leave her there for now.

He kept his back to Gus as he started sorting through the junk on his desk, trying to look busy. He wished Gus would stop butting into his life. For the last week his friend asked at least ten times a day when he was going to tell Henry the truth, or Juliet, his girlfriend.

"Shawn," Gus said sternly. Shawn heard him walk across the office to stand behind him.

He sighed, toying with a candy bar wrapper. "I'm waiting for the right time." He turned around to look at Gus. "It's not easy telling your dad that you suddenly have a fifteen year old daughter," he said wryly.

"You can't put it off forever," Gus said. "Besides, I think he has a right to know."

"I know," Shawn said. "I'll tell him soon." _Once I figure out how to survive __**that**__ conversation._

"And Juliet?" Gus asked, raising an eyebrow.

He had just moved in with his girlfriend of two years. He wasn't sure how she would take to adding a kid to the mix. "I'm working on it." Gus just gave him a look.

The office phone started ringing. Shawn grabbed it, glad to have an excuse to end the conversation. "This is Psych," he said jauntily into the phone.

"Hey Shawn," said a female voice.

"Jules," Shawn said, looking at Gus. "We were just talking about you." His friend, knowing their conversation was over, went to put the dish towel back by the sick.

"Nothing bad I hope," she said teasingly.

"Of course not," Shawn said. "So what's up?"

"We have a case for you."

Nikki came back into the office, clutching three bags of food. She handed one bag to Gus, put one on his desk, and kept the biggest bag for herself. Shawn shook his head. He was still amazed by the amount of food such a skinny girl could put away. "What kind of case?" he asked, peeking into the bag. _Churros, excellent._

"A body was found in an alley on State Street," Juliet said. "I'll fill you in on the details when you get here."

Nikki held out the change from the food to Shawn. He put the phone to his chest. "Keep it," he whispered, waving it away. She shrugged and pocketed the change before starting in on her food. He put the phone back to his ear. "Thanks Jules, we'll be right there." He turned slightly to face away from Nikki and Gus. "Love you," he said quietly.

"I love you too," Juliet said, a smile in her voice.

Shawn hung up, noticing Nikki smiling slyly at him. He cleared his throat, trying not to feel embarrassed. "We got a case," he said. "Murder on State Street."

"Cah eh om oo?" Nikki asked around a mouthful of food. At his blank look, she swallowed and tried again. "Can I come too?"

"I don't see why not," Shawn said. "My apprentice should be present to observe me when I work." He grabbed the bag of churros off his desk, knocking a pile of papers to the floor in the process. He sighed, putting the bag down and bending down carefully to pick them up.

"I don't know," Gus said, walking over to him. "Juliet wasn't too happy the last time you brought her to a crime scene."

"That was almost a week ago," Shawn said dismissively. There had been a string of robberies downtown and the evidence didn't add up. Psych had been called in, and since the police thought Nikki was his apprentice (a lie started to keep her from being arrested during their previous case), he had brought her along. "Besides, Nikki was the one that figured out the midget angle." Among the papers on the floor was a white index card he didn't remember seeing before. He looked it over as he put the rest of the papers back on the desk.

Gus looked at him doubtfully. "If you're sure. . ."

"I am," Shawn said distractedly, staring at the card. He saw Gus watching him and quickly shoved the card into his pocket. "Come on Nikki." He grabbed his bag again, taking care not to knock anything over this time.

She finished the last of her food, throwing the bag out. "Coming," she said, following them out the door.

Gus still looked worried as they got into the car. "I still think Juliet is going to be mad."

"Don't worry," Shawn said reassuringly. "She'll be fine."

* * *

Juliet O'Hara was not amused. "I thought we talked about you bringing Nikki to crime scenes," the detective hissed at Shawn when he arrived. Her short blond hair, along with her professional attire, gave her a confident and forceful appearance. The glare on her face as she looked at her boyfriend just added to the image.

"_Technically_, she's not at the crime scene," Shawn said in his defense. He pointed to where Nikki was standing behind the police tape with the other bystanders. "See, she's just like any other curious member of the general public, waiting to find out what horrible and gruesome thing happened in here." The couple standing next to Nikki were avidly peering down the alley, proving his point perfectly.

Juliet pulled him off to the side, making sure they were out of earshot of any of the officers on scene. "I just don't think it's appropriate to bring a runaway kid to a murder investigation," she said quietly.

"It's not like anybody else knows she's a runaway," Shawn argued. This was one of the complications of keeping Nikki's parentage a secret. As far as Juliet knew, Nikki was just a runaway kid he was trying to help track down her dad. Maybe if she knew the truth, she'd be a little more lenient on the matter. Looking at her face, Shawn doubted it. Nikki had started to grow on Juliet, and she would be even more protective if she knew the girl was his daughter.

"I know you care about her, but you need to be careful," Juliet said softly, touching his arm. "Especially with that meeting tomorrow. You won't be able to help her if they decide to bring her back to Denver."

"Jules, I have it under control. Don't worry," he said, smiling. He was touched by her concern for Nikki but in this case it was unnecessary. Yes, he had a meeting with social services and the Denver PD tomorrow. However, once he told them he had, in fact, found Nikki's father and that it was himself, a valuable asset of the department, he didn't see there being any problems. "Besides, it was either this or leave her at my dad's," he said. "And I'm strongly against cruel and uncomfortable punishment."

"It's cruel and unusual punishment," Juliet corrected, rolling her eyes.

"I've heard it both ways," he said with a grin.

She sighed, but returned the grin. "As long as she stays behind the line this time," she said firmly.

"Thank you," he said. Checking to make sure no one was watching, he gave Juliet a quick kiss. "Love you."

"Love you too," she said, blushing. "Now get to work." She walked away, keeping her head down to keep the other officers from seeing her red face.

Shawn walked back to the entrance of the alley where he had left Gus. "So how much trouble are you in?" he asked when Shawn reached him.

"Who says I'm in trouble?" Shawn asked, looking hurt. "Things between Jules and me are perfect."

"So why is Nikki still behind the police tape?" Gus asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I decided her talents would be better put to use watching the crime scene as a whole, seeing the ebb and flow of the activity and the people," Shawn said, waving his arms to encompass the bustling crime scene.

"Juliet wouldn't let her in, would she?" Gus asked knowingly.

Shawn sighed. "She said it's _inappropriate_ to bring a runaway to a crime scene," he said, his tone conveying his disagreement.

"You wouldn't have that problem if Juliet knew the truth," Gus said.

Shawn decided to ignore that statement. Turning away from Gus, he looked around until he spotted Nikki. He met her gaze and shook his head, telling her she wasn't allowed in. She pouted for a moment, then a calculated look crossed her face. She waved over Officer Buzz McNab and started talking animatedly to him. He hoped whatever she had planned this time wouldn't get her in trouble. She seemed to have a knack for breaking the rules.

When he turned back, Gus was giving him a stern look. "She's going to have to find out eventually," he said.

"I don't think the best time to tell her is in the middle of a crime scene," Shawn said sarcastically. All this pressure from Gus was starting to get on his nerves. Nikki was his daughter, so it was his decision when to tell people. "So maybe you can save the lectures for later, all right?" It came out harsher than he had intended. He turned away from Gus's stunned look, taking a deep breath to calm down.

He heard Gus sigh. "You didn't have to yell," he muttered. "I have feelings you know."

Shawn couldn't help himself. He turned around to grin at his brooding friend. "Dude, you are such a girl." He patted Gus on the shoulder comfortingly, earning him a glare. "Now, let's go solve us a murder." Good mood restored, he lead the way further down the alley.

* * *

Detective Carlton Lassiter was crouched down examining the body. He was a tall, lean older man with graying hair, wearing his standard attire of a suit and tie. He glanced up as Shawn and Gus approached. "Spencer. Guster," he said cheerfully. Shawn frowned. Lassiter seemed in an unusually good mood. The detective turned back to the body. "To what do I owe the displeasure of your company today?" He used a pencil to move the edge of the victim's suit jacket to examine one of the bullet wounds.

"The chief called us in," Shawn said slowly, still mystified by Lassiter's behavior. "Something about wanting the guy caught quickly and how I'm the best man for the job. You know, the usual." He gave Lassiter a cocky grin.

Gus elbowed him sharply in the side. "Dude, that hurt," he whined, rubbing his sore ribs. "You know your elbows are like ice picks."

Lassiter stood up with a chuckle. "Not even you can ruin my good mood today Spencer," he said, shaking his head at the two of them.

Shawn nodded slyly as he realized what was going on. "And how are things with Marlowe?" Lassiter's girlfriend had just recently been released from prison. He was betting that was the reason for the usually surly detective's good mood.

Lassiter looked at him smugly. "Not that it's any of your business, but things are going very well. She's one hell of a woman." He couldn't quite hide the adoration in his voice as he talked about her.

"Well, good for you man," Shawn said, patting Lassiter on the back. For all their bickering, he was glad the detective had finally found someone. Maybe it would get him to loosen up a little.

"Yes, well, we have work to do," Lassiter said gruffly, crossing his arms. He seemed uncomfortable by his brief display of actual feelings. Stepping back, he gave Shawn room to look at the body. Shawn grinned as he walked past him. He knew deep down Lassiter was just a big softy.

His grin faded as he got a closer look at the victim. He was lying on his back, surrounded by a small pool of blood. Shawn ignored the injuries for now, trying to get a picture of who this guy was. He appeared to be in his mid-40s, dark hair, fair complexion. Rather average looking by Santa Barbara standards. His suit appeared tailor made and was of good quality. His shoes and tie were high end brands. This gave Shawn an overall picture of a wealthy businessman, or drug lord. He noticed a small amount of grease on the bottom of one shoe. "You get an ID yet?" he asked, looking over at Lassiter.

The detective shook his head. "No wallet, and no other personal effects on the body. We suspect the killer did that intentionally. Forensics took prints but haven't found a match yet."

Shawn nodded, looking over the body again. He could see red marks circling the victim's neck. Judging by the diameter, he would say the victim was strangled with a piece of rope. He absentmindedly rubbed the mostly healed rope burns on his own wrists, souvenirs from a killer who had taken him hostage over a week ago.

He crouched down to study the gunshot wounds. Three shots to the chest, one appearing to go straight through the heart. He frowned, looking at the amount of blood on the ground. It didn't seem enough for three bullet wounds. He had been to enough crime scenes to have a rough idea of the amount of blood usually found with injuries like these. He had a hunch but wanted to wait until the autopsy report came in.

"Are you getting anything, Spencer?" Lassiter asked impatiently.

Shawn stood up, taking one last look over the body. Confident he had learned all he could for now, he sauntered back over to Lassiter and Gus. "Someone sure wanted that guy dead," he said cheerfully.

Lassiter rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the insight, Sherlock," he said sarcastically. "Do you have anything useful? A description, a name?" He looked at Shawn expectantly.

Shawn thought about it for a minute. "O. W. Grant," he said finally. He heard Gus snort at the name and tried to keep a straight face.

Lassiter pulled out a notepad and a pen. "Is that the victim or the killer?" he asked, jotting down the name.

"Neither," Shawn said. He grinned cheekily at Lassiter. "But if you head out to Interstate 60, he just might grant your wish."

Lassiter looked at Shawn, exasperated. "Quit wasting my time." He flipped the notebook closed, slipping it back into his jacket. "If you don't have anything useful, I think it's time for you to leave." He grabbed Shawn by the arm and started dragging him through the crime scene. He guessed the detective's good mood was wearing thin. Gus followed along behind them.

"Aren't you curious why the victim was in this part of town to begin with?" Shawn asked. Lassiter stopped, looking over at Shawn. He tried to hide it but Shawn could see the detective was interested. He grinned at Lassiter. "We both know a well-dressed man like that wouldn't normally be in this part of town. Especially during the workday."

Lassiter let him go, turning to face him. "OK, I'll bite," he said, somewhat reluctantly. "What do you know?"

Shawn put his hand to his temple. "I'm sensing someone close to the victim is sick. Very sick. Sick enough to need to be checked out by a professional."

Lassiter looked confused. "Do you mean like a doctor?"

Shawn shook his head. "Not a doctor, but something similar." He closed his eyes. "I'm seeing them. Oh, it's awful. There are fluids dripping everywhere. Parts lying abandoned on the ground. Noise, echoing off the walls." He attempted to imitate the sound of a power drill. He gave it up when Gus nudged him. He opened his eyes with a gasp. "I'm sensing this place is nearby.

Lassiter looked at him skeptically. "A place that tortures farm animals?"

Shawn sighed with disgust. "That was so clearly a power drill. You people have no imagination." He threw his hands in the air, glaring at Gus and Lassiter.

"Maybe you should learn the difference between a dying cow and power tools," Gus said.

"Maybe you should get your ears checked," Shawn muttered, causing Gus to grin.

Lassiter meanwhile was putting the pieces together. "You're talking about a mechanic's shop."

"Bingo," Shawn said, pointing at the detective. "I'm sensing he dropped the car off this morning, planning to catch a bus to the office." It hadn't been too hard to piece together. The grease on the victim's shoe looked like oil. Judging by his perfectly manicured hands, he probably didn't even know what was under the hood of his car. There had been no expensive cars parked on the street, but he did remember passing a mechanic shop on the way to the crime scene. This alley was along the quickest route between the shop and the closest bus stop. Though it was unusually for someone like the victim to use a shop in this part of town. He suspected there was more to it than car trouble, but decided to keep it to himself until he had the chance to investigate further.

"All right then," Lassiter said grudgingly. He looked around the crime scene. "McNab!" he called out authoritatively. "Get over here."

The 6' 5" officer hurried over to the trio. "Detective Lassiter," he said, nodding respectively. "Hey Shawn," he added, grinning at the psychic.

"Focus, McNab," Lassiter barked, causing the man to jump. "I need you to check the nearby mechanic shops and make a list of anyone matching our victim's description who dropped off a car this morning."

"I'll get right on it, sir," McNab said eagerly. Shawn knew the puppy dog-like officer didn't often get to help with investigations. He was often relegated to guarding the scene or going for coffee runs. He looked happy to be doing some real police work.

"Don't just stand there, get to work," Lassiter said. McNab saluted and started to walk away. "McNab!" Lassiter looked at the other cop suspiciously. "Didn't I send you for coffee ten minutes ago?"

"Well, sir, you see," McNab stammered.

"I have your coffee."

Shawn turned to find Nikki had once again used her ninja-like stealth to sneak up behind them. She was holding a cup of coffee out to Lassiter. _So that's what she was talking to McNab about._ "Three creams, four sugars, right?" she asked.

Lassiter slowly took the cup from her. "Thanks." He looked at it reluctantly, holding it slightly away from him.

Nikki rolled her eyes. "It's not poisoned or anything," she assured him.

"Are you sure?" Lassiter asked suspiciously. "Where did you get it from? Were there any suspicious characters around?" Shawn shook his head. Lassiter had to be one of the most paranoid people he knew when it came to food.

"I got it from the Starbucks on the corner," she replied promptly. "I didn't see anyone suspicious, unless you count the old lady who paid in nickels." She raised an eyebrow, giving Lassiter a look. Shawn was mildly impressed with the way she was handling the detective. "And before you ask, yes, I watched them make it. So unless someone hates you enough to poison the entire batch, and half of Santa Barbara, you're good."

"I wouldn't put it past some of them," Lassiter muttered, still eying the coffee carefully.

"It's safe. I _promise_," Nikki said emphatically. She looked innocently at Lassiter, waiting for him to drink the coffee.

Lassiter looked at her, then back at the cup. He squared his shoulders, bracing himself before he took a sip. They all watched him expectantly, waiting for the verdict. "Not bad," he said finally. Shawn tried to hide his shock. Lassiter _never_ drank anything from people he hadn't done a thorough background check on. Looking at Gus, Shawn saw he was equally shocked.

"Told you," she said cheekily.

Lassiter took another sip, then seemed to notice everyone staring at him. "McNab! Get to work on those names." He turned to Shawn as McNab ran off. "Spencer. I believe your 'apprentice' was banned from all crime scenes after the last incident." He glanced over at Nikki. "No offense." He turned back to Shawn. "I'll be informing the chief about this."

"It's not like she intentionally tampered with the scene," Shawn protested. "She tripped." They still had enough evidence from the other crime scenes to catch the robbers, so he didn't see what the big deal was. Juliet had been pretty mad about it though, and Vick had banned Nikki from all future crime scenes after that happened. This certainly wouldn't help him at the meeting tomorrow. He glanced over at Nikki to see a guilty expression on her face. She obviously hadn't thought she might get him in trouble.

"Spencer –" Lassiter started.

"It's not his fault," Nikki said, jumping in. "I was just trying to help." She looked beseechingly at Lassiter. "I thought if I got the coffee, that would leave more people free to find out what happened. I didn't want to get anyone in trouble." She looked down, crestfallen.

Shawn glanced over at Gus, raising an eyebrow. Gus nodded. He had noticed it too. Nikki's speech was bit too rehearsed to be genuine. He wondered how often his daughter managed to talk her way out of trouble.

Lassiter sighed, causing Shawn to hide a grin. Rehearsed or not, it seemed to have worked. "Just don't do it again," Lassiter said, sounding less forceful than he had a moment ago. He raised the coffee cup. "And thank you again for the coffee."

"Glad you liked it," Nikki said happily, smiling at the detective. She turned and started making her way through the bustle of the crime scene towards the alley entrance.

Shawn watched her go, frowning thoughtfully. This time it wasn't an act. Nikki was genuinely happy Lassiter liked the coffee. As for the detective, Shawn was still shocked he actually drank the coffee. It had taken Shawn months before Lassiter would accept anything from him, and then it was only because Juliet made him. Even after all these years, he was still suspicious whenever Shawn brought him anything. So what did it mean that he would take a drink from Nikki after only knowing her less than two weeks? And why did she care if Lassiter liked the coffee?

"At least one of you listens," Lassiter muttered, interrupting Shawn's thoughts. They both looked over at Gus as he choked and turned red. "What's wrong with him?"

Shawn rolled his eyes. He wouldn't have to worry about keeping his secret if Gus kept acting like this. "Allergic reaction," Shawn said, covering for him. "He's allergic to alley dust."

"Alley dust," Lassiter said skeptically.

"Yep," he said, grabbing his choking friend's arm. "I should get him out of here before his tongue swells up and his eyes pop out." He pushed Gus past the bemused detective and towards the entrance to the alley.

"Dude," he hissed once they were out of earshot. "Get it together."

Gus's face was still red. "But he said –"

"He meant one of us _psychics,_ not one of us Spencers," Shawn said with exasperation. "But you keep acting like that and even _he's_ bound to figure it out."

"Sorry," Gus said contritely. "You know I can't keep a secret."

"You've been keeping the fact I'm not a psychic a secret for years," he pointed out.

"That's different," Gus said. "If people find out I'll probably go to jail."

"Well, find a way to keep this secret too," he said. He was about to say more when he heard someone call his name. Turning, he saw Juliet coming towards him, looking annoyed. He sighed heavily. They had almost made it out of there too. He could see Nikki waiting for them behind the police tape. "Get Nikki to the car," he told Gus. "I'll be right there." Gus headed off as he waited to face his girlfriend.

Juliet stopped right in front of him. "I thought I told you to keep Nikki behind the police line," she said angrily.

"You did," he said uneasily.

"Then why did I just see her walking around the crime scene?" Juliet asked, crossing her arms.

Shawn wasn't sure if he could talk his way out of trouble for a second time today. Especially for the same thing. Lies wouldn't work in this situation. Juliet was getting too good at reading him. He held back a grin as he realized his best option here was sticking to the truth. "She took it upon herself to get Lassie's coffee," he explained.

Her expression softened slightly. "That was nice of her, but she should have given it to an officer to pass along," Juliet said. "Not gone traipsing around an active crime scene."

"But then Lassie couldn't have thanked her after he drank it," Shawn said slyly. If the event had shocked him, it was sure to shock his partner. He smiled seeing the confusion come over Juliet's face.

"What do you mean, he drank it?" Juliet asked, her tone one of disbelief.

"I mean he put the cup to his lips and ingested the contents," he said slowly, making sure to enunciate clearly.

Juliet appeared to have trouble absorbing this. "Nikki got Carlton Lassiter, my partner, coffee." Shawn nodded. "And he drank it." He nodded again. Her eyes narrowed. "You're lying."

"Cross my heart," he promised, making a big 'X' over his chest. "Lassiter drank a coffee brought to him by an almost stranger. Ask him yourself."

"I will. Stay here," Juliet told him firmly. She went off in search of her partner.

Figuring he had a couple minutes before Juliet returned, Shawn looked around the crime scene. The ME's office had arrived. It looked like they were getting ready to move the body. Several officers were doing a final sweep of the alley, looking for any clues they might have missed.

Off to the side, another officer was questioning a bearded man in a janitor's uniform. The man seemed to sense Shawn's gaze and looked up. He looked strangely familiar, but Shawn couldn't place from where. The man grinned at him a moment before turning back to answer the cop's question. Shawn shivered. The guy was giving him a major creepy vibe.

Juliet walked back over to him. "You were right," she said, still looking shocked. "I saw him drink from the cup himself." He nodded absentmindedly, still watching the man. She seemed to sense something was off. "Are you ok?"

Shawn nodded towards the creepy bearded guy. "Who is that?"

Juliet turned to see who he was looking at. "That's Jacob Winters, the man who found the body this morning. He said he heard a struggle in the alley on the way to the bus stop. By the time he got to the victim, the killer was already gone."

"Did he hear any gunshots?" Shawn asked, still watching the man. Why did he look familiar?

"No, but no one else reported hearing gunfire either. We think the killer may have used a silencer." She looked between the man and Shawn. "Is he connected to the murder?"

"I don't know," he said slowly. "But I think we should keep an eye on that guy." He tore his gaze away from Winters, looking at Juliet. She looked back at him worriedly. He gave her a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Don't worry. I could be wrong. Maybe he just likes Chad Michael Murray. That always throws off my vibes."

"We'll keep an eye on him," Juliet promised. She suddenly grinned at him. "And I'll let it slide that you brought Nikki to the crime scene, since she managed to do the impossible. Just don't do it again." She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. "See you tonight."

"See you then," he promised with a smile. He watched her walk off, then headed to the car. As he walked, he pulled the index card he had found in the Psych office out of his pocket. He hadn't shown Gus the note because it would just make him worry. The same with Juliet. He read again the single, neatly written sentence on the back of the card.

_**Come and get me, Shawn. I'll be waiting.**_

He stuffed the card back into his pocket. It looked like this case was going to be interesting.

* * *

**I only have half the next chapter written, so I don't know when the next update will be. I'll be switching off writing this one with my other stories. I do have the entire story outlined and scattered scenes written throughout. Hopefully it won't be too long.**


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